Wednesday, November 4, 2015

In the 1984
comedy film This Is Spinal Tap, a mock documentary that follows the
fading fortunes of an aging heavy metal band, Rob Reiner is interviewing the
band’s manager. Observing the fact that the band’s audience has shrunk at every
stop on the current tour, Reiner asks, “Has Spinal Tap gotten less popular?”

Spinal Tap's manager speaks softly and carries a cricket bat.

“Oh, no,”
says the manager, “No, no, no, no, no … Spinal Tap is not less popular. Their
audience has just gotten more selective.”

We laugh,
because obviously, fewer numbers of fans in the stands means that the band is
less popular. But then, it’s all too easy to take this question and apply it to
the church. Is Christianity becoming less popular in the Western world? No, no,
no, no, no … Christianity is not less popular. Our following has just gotten
more selective.

And you know
what? I think this is absolutely right.

For 1700
years, it was safe to assume that the majority of people living in the Western
world were Christians. That is no longer the case. We are in the process of
successfully decoupling faith and culture from each other. Partly, this is
possible because of our commitment to radical individualism, about which I’m
aware I’ve probably preached too much lately. But overall, I think it’s a good
thing. Christianity is meant to be a countercultural force, not an assumed
norm. When it becomes an assumed norm—as it did for 1700 years—it loses a lot
of its vitality. We are now
living in a time when Christianity can reclaim its main goal again: to spread
the Good News of God’s salvation of the world through Jesus Christ.

Our goal is
not to save people, or to make people behave in a certain way, or to make bad people into good
people, or to raise lots of money, or to build grand cathedrals. These things
might happen along the way, but where they don’t happen, that doesn’t mean the
mission is failing.

The means to
our goal might include weekly worship, feeding the hungry, teaching and
learning about the Bible, and baptizing lots and lots of people into the
church. These things are vital practices that aid our goal, but where they
don’t happen, that doesn’t mean that God has abandoned our joint project.

It is such a
big temptation for churches to count numbers. Whether you come from a tradition
that counts “bums in the pews,” or a tradition that counts “souls saved,” we
are comforted by the presence of more and more people among us. That has
certainly been the case at St. Paul’s lately—we had 298 people at the 10:30
service this past Sunday, and that feels great! But in most places in the
Episcopal Church, and in Christianity throughout the West, this just isn’t
happening.

Christianity
is getting more selective. And our gospel lesson today tells us that Jesus was
selective, too, about who could be his followers.

Large crowds
were following him around, we hear. The Jesus Movement was very popular,
because healing and wholeness were flowing from this man’s very touch, and an
abundance of food simply from his blessing. It seems that Jesus saw the need to
make sure people knew what they were signing up for. It’s like when I talk to
parents and potential godparents of infants and children, and I might ask
blatantly, “Why on earth would you want to have your child baptized? Do you
know what you’re getting your child into?”

Jesus tells
us what the Jesus Movement must mean for us. It means putting God ahead of our
families, such that our love for them looks like hate by comparison. It means
carrying a cross—being willing to shoulder the burden of shameful execution as
convicted criminals. After 1700 years of Constantinian Christianity in the
Western world, we have a hard time imagining this cost.

The Rev. Canon Andrew White,"Vicar of Baghdad"

Yet today in
Iraq, Christians and other religious minorities are having to make exactly this
decision: Cave under pressure, die, or become refugees. The Anglican Vicar of
Baghdad, Andrew White, has a $157 million price on his head.ISIS has killed over 1,200 of his
parishioners. That’s the cost of being a Christian in the post-Saddam Hussein
world, in a place where a twisted, evil version of an otherwise great religion
is swiftly taking over.

Meanwhile in
the United States, pampered Christians who have never learned what persecution
is cry “persecution!” when someone wishes them “happy holidays” instead of
“merry Christmas,” or when someone tells them that public prayer in public
schools might not be appropriate, or when someone asks them to bake a wedding cake,
or when a Muslim family moves into the neighborhood.

Perspective
is a very helpful thing. In the United States, we’d have to stick our necks out
pretty far to be persecuted for being Christians. A Christian identity is still
the assumed norm, even if few people are choosing it. But this identity, being
assumed, does not bring with it the cost that Jesus demanded of his first
followers, or even of the first three centuries of his followers.

It might
seem silly to ask this of you, a tiny group of dedicated Christians. But I’ll
ask it anyway: “Are you sure you really want to sign up for this?” It’s good to
keep asking ourselves this every day. Once we are baptized, we can’t be
un-baptized. But we always get to decide what to do with our baptism.

In our
privileged context, what do we do about the high cost of discipleship that
Jesus spoke of? Chances are we won’t ever be put to the test to this extreme. But
we will be put to the test in lesser ways.

Will we
respect the dignity of every human being, even when it’s difficult or darn nigh
impossible?

Will we
pursue relationship with those who are very different from us? Will we swallow
our pride and say, “I acknowledge that I can never fully understand your
experience”?

Will we give
more in time, talent, and treasure than our fellow human beings expect of us,
simply for the joy of giving?

Will we
dedicate ourselves to continual spiritual growth, even in old age?

Will we be
prepared, on the day we meet face to face with the one who made us, to say,
“I’m sorry—I was wrong—please forgive me”? Will we be able to accept the joy of
salvation even if that also means salvation for certain of our enemies? Will we
be able to forgive them?

Sometimes,
relative to our own context, these are revolutionary steps for people like you
and me to take. These steps don’t happen all at once, but they will be asked of
us.

In many
places in the world, Christianity is becoming more selective. Iraq now contains
only one sixth of its Christian population from ten years ago. Martyrdom is
widespread in Iraq; in the United States, it is barely even a possibility. But
Christianity is becoming more selective here, too. And less popular. And maybe
on this side of the ocean, at least, it’s a good thing. Those who are in church
really want to be here, to learn, to grow, to love, to carry our crosses, and
to change the world.

I’m glad all
of you are here with me today, and that Jesus is with all of us in the breaking
of the bread. Now let us pray for the needs of the world, and let us pray for
the strength and the grace to carry our crosses for the sake of others. Amen.